


The best thing that happened

by Thequalityrunaway



Series: Strifehart Week [15]
Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Bad Matchmaking, Birthday Party, Cloud's bike, Disapproving Family, Happy Ending, Ignored relationship, Insensitive parent, Introvert, Kinda, Laguna's -A parenting, M/M, Secret Relationship, Squall needs better friends, Strifehartweek2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 03:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thequalityrunaway/pseuds/Thequalityrunaway
Summary: Being stolen from his own Birthday party is the best present Squall has ever received.





	The best thing that happened

Squall hated his birthday.

Well, to be more specific, he hated the _party_ thrown for it. To narrow it further; he hated _Laguna’s_ _part_ in the celebrations.

Each and every event he threw for his son was an experience so … tedious, that Squall’s dislike of it spread to the entire day- nay, the entire week leading up to it. He believed the drama in the phrase; _ I hate my birthday _ , was pretty justified at this point.

Sadly, he was unable to duck out of it. Squall would have readily run to the other side of the world to get away from this; tried to arrange mission after mission to delay his return- but his  _ friends _ thought that it would be good for him. He saw through their ploys though; it served them more than him with all the free food and Presidential benefits (celebrity guests, high end entertainment, grand venues) that Squall would rather do without.

Though they had one additional underhanded reason for forcing, blackmailing, and threatening him into going; it was a matchmaking evening. And his friends still had their hearts set on him and Rinoa getting back together. To complete the group. For old times sakes. Because their romance had been a fairy-tale …  _ whatever _ .

For some reason they could not comprehend that  **_A_ ** ) his love life was none of their business, and  **_B_ ** ) a breakup is a breakup, not a ‘break’ from relationship that’ll get switched back again like a fucking lamp.

Squall decided that needed better friends … maybe he could pawn them off somehow? Get some use out of them like they were getting out of him.

His friends weren’t the only ones in on the matchmaking though, Laguna was also too enthusiastic about inviting every female celebrity, friend of a friend, and his ex to this party- all noticeably single with just platonic plus ones. The ones that brought parents were the ones Squall avoided the most, the Mothers were terrifying; ‘you’re not good enough for my daughter!’ / ‘you think you’re too good for my daughter!’

_ Whatever, I chose life. _

This celebration, in short, was akin to torture.

Squall hung by the balcony of the ballroom of one of his Father’s estates, trying his very best to not be a part of the party dedicated to him. He stared out of windows (because staring at paintings seemed to hone Laguna in), avoided the long tables of expensive looking food (Zell and co. hung out there), and lingered near the balcony once he’d heard more than enough ‘it’s cold for this time of year’ comments- figuring that was his best bet to avoid confrontations. Or talking. Or polite refusals. Same things really …

Oh, also Laguna. Avoiding him was great too. He spied him across the way, chatting animatedly with Rinoa as if she was still dating his son. Seriously, he even called  _ her _ for advice on what he,  _ Squall, _ would like at his birthday! The excessive flower arrangements and white drapes were  _ not _ his input.

He was naturally pissed at both of them, and was intent on not speaking to either of them for the entire evening. That, and, the last conversation between them at an event a year ago had been traumatic enough for Squall to risk being rude before the other one hundred guests: Laguna was talking about second chances. Albite it was about his  _ personal _ second chances, but Squall caught the less than subtle message and had quickly walked out of range of hearing: “Not interested.”

Ah, he’d been spending too much time with Cloud, his usual ‘whatever’ was nowhere to be found tonight.

Just like Cloud wasn’t.

Typical that he wasn’t invited. Laguna said; ‘he couldn’t make it.’ But Squall saw through the stuttered excuse.

His unlikely friendship in Cloud Strife, an ex-Shinra SOLDIER that Squall had partnered with during a mission with Avalanche, was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Cloud was like no one he had ever met, and though at odds to start with they had found a lot of common ground as the mission went on, and the rest was history. It was so refreshing to have a friend in someone just like himself who could say everything with a look, with action, with just a few words. Someone who had an interesting past, a trauma they understood and shared, a person he looked forwards to meeting again. Someone who never pushed him to speak for idle curiosity and was content to wait. Squall felt like he could be himself around Cloud. He was great.

And, of course, because Squall had the worst luck when it came to good things in life; everyone disagreed.

Rinoa  _ hated _ him, Laguna  _ couldn’t stand _ him, his friends blamed Cloud for ‘making Squall go back into his shell, he never relies on us anymore’ – all unfounded jealousies that made Squall even more determined to keep close to Cloud, much to the blond’s amusement.

It had become a game, to him, to randomly waltz into Squall’s radar and piss off his ‘friends’ by existing. Squall recalled many evenings drinking to their game, toasting while leaning their backs on his bike in the middle of nowhere, just them. The drinks had led to … a few interesting side effects.

They hadn’t been drunk, Squall could confirm by how coherent they were when driving home … but he was still pretty sure that the alcohol had something to do with … lowered inhibitions. The bruises the next day had been hard to hide.

It wasn’t an isolated incident, not by a long shot. But they never spoke about it. Didn’t need to. It happened, and it kept happening. That told Squall enough about Cloud, and about himself, to understand where they stood.

The music changed, signalling a dance- and  _ fuck you Laguna _ it was the same song as it graduation ball. Squall almost crushed the wineglass he was holding, practically seeing through his closed eyes as Rinoa’s face lit up in recognition, and how Laguna turned wildly on the spot, searching frantically for him. Then he’d push them together, and he’d have to dance with his ex,  _ again _ , be given many compliments on how good they look together,  _ again _ , and-

_ Fuck this. _

Squall opened the balcony door and stepped out into it, shutting it firmly behind him. He stepped out of sight and tilted his head back against the stone wall. Yep. He hated his birthday.

Calls for him could be heard from inside, Laguna’s voice rising cheerily but worried above the crowd when Squall wasn’t immediately found and brought into the spotlight. He brought out a walkie talkie and started asking security to order a search.

Squall heard it all and felt like half-heartedly stabbing something. Squall exhaustedly turned away from the door giving the entire estate the cold shoulder, weary and longing for tonight to be over with.

Predictably, he was found in minutes.

Laguna appeared and smiled at him. Squall glared at the security camera over the doors, annoyed that he had missed it. He braced himself to deal with a Father who was determined to understand him through everything but direct conversation. “Ah Squall, you were here all along?”

Squall shrugged. “Needed some peace and quiet.”

“I see, well, you’ve missed your dance- but not to worry! I can ask the band to reply the song,  _ I  _ am paying them after all! Haha. Oh, and Rinoa’s wearing such a nice dress this evening, all white. Just like your- oh, where’s your tie gone, I’m sure I gave it to you?”

Squall thought about the tie hanging from the tree outside his guest-bedroom and feigned ignorance, “Must have fallen off.”

“Should have had a lady tie it for you, they’re good at that. A nice way to show a bond- now come, can’t keep your girlfriend waiting.”

“She’s my ex.” Squall didn’t budge from his spot, and Laguna kept talking as if he hadn’t said a word.  _ Am I speaking a foreign language or something? What the hell is wrong with everyone? _ He cursed in silent despair. “I don’t want to dance.”

“Oh, come now, you can’t refuse a lady a dance-”

_ Can so. Or does ‘no’ mean nothing in this place … _

Squall was about to object again when he heard the most surprising and wonderful sound coming from the night: The  _ roar _ of a motorbike.

Squall turned, wide awake, gripping the edge of the balcony as he stared down the long drive. A single figure on a custom-built bike sped down the grand driveway towards them. Squall knew that bike, and he knew the driver even more- “Cloud?” he gasped.

“ _ What’s he doing here? _ ” Laguna gasped, looking as panicked as when Squall went missing and fumbling for his security phone. He flustered about, wringing his hands, recalling how he’d lied and told Squall that Cloud couldn’t make it- and Squall smirked at his old man’s squirming. Laguna opened the phone, “Why didn’t you stop him? I told you to keep him out!” he hissed, the roaring of the motorbike drifting about and wrecking the lawn drawing attention from the ballroom. Most people now ambling to the various balconies to see what was happening.

Squall felt his chest tighten up at the thought of Cloud muscling his way through security to get to him, if he was a sap he’d have said it was the most romantic thing that had been done for him; it was. But Squall wasn’t a sap.

Cloud skid to a stop just a few feet away from the balcony and smirked up at Squall, nodding just the once in an offer to come away. An offer Squall could never refuse.

Squall jumped up and over the balcony before anyone could stop him, ignoring the screams and yells of guests and friends. He scaled down the building as fast as he could, and fell the last few feet to the ground when he heard the calls for security getting louder.

Cloud threw him a pair of biking glasses like his own and revved the engine when Squall climbed on behind him. “Hold tight,” was his only warning.  Security was approaching, but by the time they were close Squall and Cloud were speeding at rates of over seventy.

Laguna, Rinoa, Squall’s friends and the random acquaintances yelled Squall’s name and demands to come back. But Squall was long gone and feeling freer than he had all week. There was no contest, he’d rather be here out on the road with Cloud on his bike, hanging onto the man’s waist while they took ninety mile an hour turns and roared through traffic like it was dust in the wind. He squeezed his arms around Cloud, not quite believing that this was real, that he’d been rescued.

* * *

They didn’t speak for the journey, so Squall didn’t ask where they were going. Eventually, they pulled over in an isolated road in the middle of nowhere. Squall recognised it as some of Cid’s favourite junkyard haunts.

Within the junkyard itself gently wafted the sounds of a small BBQ, the glow of a fire, and the chatter of some of friends.

Fenrir, the bike, parked with a smooth crunch of gravel and a sigh of the engine shutting down. Cloud turned his head to Squall and pushed his goggles up onto his head, “You can let go now.”

Squall got off the bike, doing what he was told, he stretched, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging off the jacket. Glad to be out of the suit and in something more informal. The adrenaline from his escape was still pumping through his body, so he turned to Cloud, who was fishing beers out of the back of the bike, and smacked the items out of his hands to kiss him fiercely, growling: “I  _ fucking _ love you,” against his lips.

Cloud responded with a chuckle, kissing him back just as passionately, and when they were done kissing he picked up the beers again and casually linked an arm through Squall’s. “Mind the beers, they’re Tifa’s best.” Squall sighed at the thought.

“Hmm, much better than wine.”

“Fuck the wine, we’ll treat you,” Cloud waved as their little group spotted them arriving. Yuffie, Sora, Riku, Kairi, Roxas, Cid, Vincent, Tifa, Denzel; Aerith and Zack waved from around the campfire.

Yuffie was guarding a small pile of presents, Cid was midway through a new smoke; Aerith and Zack tending to the barbeque; Tifa served a small collection of drinks from homemade barrels; Vincent just kinda loomed; Sora and Roxas were putting on different radio stations to find one that suited the mood; Kairi and Denzel were setting the tiny snack table; and Riku was putting more logs on the campfire.

It was informal, looked rushed, but it was the second-best thing Squall had witnessed today.

They all waved and grinned at the guest of honour, a chorus of happy birthday’s sounding around the group in different levels of enthusiasm. Sora threw himself in for a hug, Yuffie too, and no one commented beyond a smile at the way the two young men refused to let go of each other’s hands.

“Hot dogs for the birthday boy?” Zack hollered.

Good beer, close  _ understanding _ friends, his ‘best-friend’ holding his hand, his favourite food, a casual atmosphere and a place where he’d be listened to; Squall loved his birthday.


End file.
